


Dinner is Served

by needles



Series: Bokuaka Detective drabbles [11]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Author refuses to accept responsibility for nauseous imagery, Do not consume before meals, Just be glad AO3 has no smell function, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29028315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/needles/pseuds/needles
Summary: A dinner date? Don't hold your breath - or maybe you should?
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Series: Bokuaka Detective drabbles [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2116251
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	Dinner is Served

The room was dark, thick, heavy velvet drapes in a shade of deepest burgundy stifled every glimmer of evening light that tried to penetrate the unwashed windows. The walls were a mix of old wood panelling almost black with age and grime, and faded wallpaper. The floorboards creaked slightly, though the sound was muffled by the worn Persian style carpets covering most of the floor. Surfaces were cluttered with dusty nick-nacks and it appeared the place had usually been lit by candles. If Bokuto hadn’t known better he’d have thought they’d wandered into a Dickens novel, he half expected to see Miss Haversham in the chair at the head of the dining table.

But the table, though laid for dinner, was unoccupied by guests. Thirteen places were set, each with bone china, crystal glasses and polished silver cutlery. On each plate sat a silver domed cover. Just waiting for a butler to lift it away to the diner’s acclamation of the tasty morsels beneath. Except this dinner didn’t smell so good. If the place hadn’t been sealed like a submarine the flies would have been all over it like a municipal dump.

It was dark, musty, claustrophobic, and it stank. Bokuto nodded, all in all a typical crime scene for himself and his partner. He holstered his gun and turned to him.

“Ok Akaashi, no live ones in here you can see what’s for dinner now.”

Rolling his eyes at Bokuto he snapped on a pair of gloves and approached the first dish. He lifted the cover carefully and Bokuto almost gagged. A gust of putrid air washed over him from the green and decayed item on the plate.

“Left hand. Severed just above the wrist, probably with a saw of some kind. The whole thing appears to have been cooked.” Keiji recited into his voice recorder.

He motioned one of the techs forward to take photographs before bagging the hand, dish and all, for transit to the laboratory.

He moved to the next place setting. A foot this time. This was followed by the remainder of the lower arm, the upper arm, a section of ribs and what he suspected would turn out to be a steak carved from a buttock. He crossed to the far side and it caused him no surprise to find the same sequence of body parts cooked and served along the opposite side of the table.

Finally he approached the head of the table and lifted the slightly larger cover from the dish sat there. A decomposing head sat on the plate looking down the length of the table. Or it would have been if it had functioning eyeballs, which it didn’t.

He leaned over the repulsive object.

“Bokuto san I think we may have found our missing restaurant critic.”

“Surely you can’t recognise him from that pile of green ….gloop?”

“No although the age and zygomatic structure appear correct.”

“Speculation, from you Akaashi?”

“No Bokuto san but there is a rolled up copy of one of his reviews stuffed in his mouth.” He extracted the stained piece of paper with tweezers and dropped it into a bag.

“Very symbolic.”

“I agree, as is this repast laid out on the table.”

“I’d hardly call it a repast Akaashi, that conjures up images of a happy birthday party, not a cannibal’s carvery.”

“The word simply means ‘meal’ Bokuto san.”

Bokuto spread out his hands, palms up. “Then why not say meal?”

A small grin hitched up one side of Keiji’s mouth. “That would be no fun at all Bokuto san.”

He glared at his partner. “You bait me on purpose don’t you Akaashi?”

The grin spread right across Keiji’s face. “I’m just trying to broaden your vocabulary Bokuto san.”

“Really? Well just for that tonight we are going to start you on Hockey Terminology 101. It’s time you learned what I’m talking about when we watch a game.”

“Very well Bokuto san. I must admit I’m dying to find out what a ‘grinder’ is, and a ‘slapshot’, they sound fascinating.” Keiji smiled at him seductively.

He flushed bright red. “Akaashi, not in front of the techs, you sound like a puck bunny!” 

“Ah now that one I do know.” Keiji winked at him.

“How?” He asked, before the light instantly dawned.

In unison they both said, “Yukie!”

“Detective Bokuto, Akaashi san, should I continue to bag up the remains?” one of the techs asked them nervously.

“Yes please.” Keiji nodded, pulling off his gloves. “Come on Bokuto san I believe I have a language class to attend.”


End file.
